


Pegged Out To Dry

by WolfesPuppies



Category: The Great Library Series - Rachel Caine
Genre: Aftercare, Edging, F/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Punishment, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-13 16:08:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20177056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfesPuppies/pseuds/WolfesPuppies
Summary: In which Dario is pegged, but not in the way you're thinking.





	Pegged Out To Dry

**Author's Note:**

> I apologise for the truly awful title, I couldn't think of anything else!
> 
> This was definitely a challenge; I haven't done Khalila/Dario before, and I haven't writte porn for a very long time. I hope you enjoy!

It gratifies Khalila to know that she can strip away all of Dario's elegance and eloquence with such a simple thing. The peg on his tongue makes his pretty speeches thick and clumsy, and the drool dripping down his chin could not be called elegant in any sense of the word. His hands twist in the cuffs holding them to his thighs as he strives to wipe the drool away before it reaches his chest. She sits on a chair in front of him, keeping a careful eye on the clock - she’d tried this on herself before suggesting it, loosening the spring of the peg so it wasn’t too tight, and she’d only managed five minutes before it became unbearable. Dario whines deep in his throat, and Khalila leans forward slightly to run her hand through his hair, scratching his scalp as he presses into her touch.

“One more minute, dearest.”

The second the clock ticks the time down, Khalila takes the peg and gives Dario a second to prepare himself before she takes it off. When she does, he curls in on himself as much as he can, pulling his tongue back into his mouth and whimpering slightly before sitting back up. She gives him as much as a minute to sort himself out before clearing her throat, and the speed with which his eyes jump to hers is rewarding.

“You understand why you were punished?”

Dario nods, and whilst she understands an unwillingness to speak, she’s not letting him get away with it that easily.

“Words, dearest.”

The look he gives her could melt steel, but she raises an eyebrow and waits for him to get on with it.

“Yes Mistress.” The s’s are clumsy, not the stark sibilance they should be.

“Tell me.”

“I spoke when I wasn’t meant to.”

“Good boy.”

Dario has been hard since Khalila had ordered him to his knees, and despite the punishment, his cock still juts up between his thighs. She reaches down and grabs it, and he curls in on himself, whining, until a nudge of her foot reminds him of his posture and he straightens.

“You may make as much noise as you want, but no words.” She informs him as she starts to move her hand. “If you speak, the peg goes back on.” He nods as best he can, and moans when she moves faster, bracing herself with her other hand on his thigh. Khalila keeps eye contact with him throughout and can tell when Dario realises his true predicament. He has a standing rule of no coming without permission, and she hasn’t rescinded it. His breath hitches once, and his mouth open slightly before he thinks better of it and closes it again.

Dario’s hips start to thrust, and his lips tighten as he tries to hold back words and his come, and at the last possible moment, when his balls tighten and it seems inevitable, Khalila removes her hand. It takes a second for Dario to recognise the loss of simulation, and when he does he almost sobs, curling in as his body chases her hand. He doesn’t speak though, and she rewards him by running her hand through his hair again, scratching his scalp and pulling his curls in just the way he likes it. She gives him two minutes to calm himself down, one eye on the clock and the other on his cock, before leaning down and taking him in hand once more.

This time he whimpers as she moves her hand, and it doesn’t take nearly as long for his hips to start moving in time with her rhythm, his hands clenching and unclenching in their cuffs. She sees his lips start to form words, and tightens her hand in warning, the mouthed words falling into a groan as she does. Khalila nods in approval, and loosens her grip, keeping her rhythm slow and steady and implacable. Dario throws his head back and he’s_ beautiful_ like this, all taut desperation and the long line of his throat bared to her, _for_ her, and she almost lets him come then and there but holds off and removes her hand from his cock once more when he’s close. His respite is shorter this time, only a minute, enough for his cock to stop twitching and his breathing to steady a little. Khalila considers him for a second, judging how much farther she can push him.

“Colour? You can speak.” It takes a second for Dario to answer, eyes hazy as he fights through the fog of arousal.

“Green, green, oh, _please-“_

“I didn’t say you could beg.” She observes mildly, and watches with a quirked eyebrow as he ducks his head in apology.

“But I also didn’t say you couldn’t, and you’re so beautiful when you do.”

The break in character is worth it for the flush that starts in his chest and rises up his face. Khalila admires it for a second before making eye contact with Dario once again and taking hold of him for the third time. It’s only seconds before he’s whimpering, thrusting into her hand and almost sobbing with the effort, and then, finally,

“You can come.”

He comes with a shout, curling in on himself and shuddering through the aftershocks before collapsing a little to rest his forehead on the chair in between Khalila’s spread legs.

“You did so well, I’m so proud of you.” She praises, scratching his scalp slightly before using her grip to pull his head up. He looks exhausted, eyes heavy and lidded and hazy.

“To bed.” She decides, leaning forward to undo the cuffs around his wrists and thighs. “Can you stand?” Dario takes a second but does make it to his shaky feet and the few feet over to the bed, where he doesn’t so much sit as fall onto it. Khalila fetches water for them both, and a washcloth to clean Dario up before making her own way to the bed, beckoning him over to lean his head on her chest. It’s not long before he’s asleep, utterly spent from the night’s activities.

She inspects his tongue the next morning, ordering him to stick it out when they wake to the morning sun streaming around the edges of the curtains. It’s a little swollen, but nothing that would impede his speech and other activities, or anything that would point to actual damage, and so Khalila spreads her legs in invitation, one Dario takes with enthusiasm.


End file.
